


Safe

by dwarvenkin



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Asexual Cullen, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hetero-romantic Asexual Cullen, In-game Dialogue, POV Cullen Rutherford, Romance, anxiety attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10023275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarvenkin/pseuds/dwarvenkin
Summary: Cullen has the chance to come to terms with his asexuality. For as long as he could remember, he hadn't the urge, and he never understood the Why. But maybe the Why doesn't matter. Maybe this is just who he is, and maybe he wanted someone to love him regardless.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is sort of a personal piece. I, myself, am hetero-romantic asexual. Sometimes I feel lonely. I feel as though no one would love someone like me. But other times, I'm like WHO CARES! I'm me! And I should love me no matter what! But this story is for the times when I feel down. I like to think of Cullen as ace because as far as I know, there are no aces in Dragon Age. And that needs to change! So before I babble on too long, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this! :)  
> Trigger Warning: PDA and sex mention

“Rylen’s men will monitor the situation,” Cullen ordered.

“Yes, ser,” said Rylen with a salute. “We’ll begin preparations at once.”

A handful of soldiers surrounded his desk, listening to his every word. A map was laid out in front of him with carved lions weighing the edges down. Night had fallen and candles had been lit, throwing shadows onto the stone walls of his office. It had not yet been a week since he, the Inquisitor, and everyone else had made it back from the disaster that was the Winter Palace. He had not slept well since that night, but, then again, when did he ever?

The Duchess was dead, the Grand Duke was exiled, and the Inquisitor, as much as she said otherwise, was not taking it well. Cullen knew she was no good with politics, and the Grand Game was worse. The Orlesians had played her fiercely, relentlessly, and Cullen suspected she was still recovering. How Leliana and Josephine lived like that for years, he would never know. Better to be forward than hide your true meaning behind honeyed words and painted masks.

“In the meantime, we’ll send soldiers to…” He meant to say more but made the mistake of looking up. Leaning on the wall, hiding a smile behind her fingers, was Rania Trevelyan in her usual yellow robe, brown leggings, and white shirt rolled up to her elbows. Cullen cleared his throat at once. “To… assist with the relief effort. That will be all.”

“Ser!”

His soldiers turned on their heels and marched out with him right behind them. As soon as the last man passed the threshold, the commander closed the door, pressing his palms against the fading wood. A headache was coming, he could feel it, spreading from the nape of his neck. Soon, his entire head would be throbbing.

“There’s always something more isn’t there?” he asked, tired. He hung his head and sighed.

“Wishing we were somewhere else?” Rania said lightly.

Cullen looked up and chuckled. “I barely found time to be away before.”

The candles on his desk flickered as he walked passed. His work space was filthy, he just noticed, with letters scattered, books haphazardly piled in corners, and goblets of old wine collecting dust. Candle wax dripped over the edge of his desk and spread like fingers along the stone floor. He leaned over the map but did not take in the details. None of those things seemed to matter to him right now.

“This war won’t last forever,” he muttered. “When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival. But things are different now.”

“Different how?” Rania asked from behind him. She placed a gentle hand on the small of his back, and something caught in the back of his throat.

“I find myself wondering what will happen after,” he confessed. When he turned, Rania was there in front of him, listening intently as she always had when he went off prattling about one thing or another. It could be about his soldiers or the rain or how Sera drew obscene doodles on his reports, but she would narrow her warm brown eyes and _listen_. Warmth would spread across his chest, always, because it was her. Because he could say anything and feel safe. “When this is over, I won’t want to move on… not from you.”

Something about how she smiled satisfied him to the core. If it wasn’t for the world ripping itself apart at the seems, Cullen would very much have liked to stay in this moment. A foolish thought, he knew. But this, right here, was enough for him.

So when Rania moved in to press her body against his, when she tugged on the cloth draped across his chest to pull him down into a kiss and said, “Well, you won’t have to,” he began to panic. Not because she kissed him. They have kissed plenty of times — under the garden’s gazebo at night, on the dock of a lake where he had given her his lucky coin, in this very office when she would kiss him goodbye, alone in the war room at sunset. He loved kissing her. The way her hands circled his waist and how her thick hair felt between his fingers. Kissing was easy. Kissing was safe. But this kiss was something different. It was filled with hunger and desire, and he could feel the tip of her tongue press against his lips.

And right now, her hands inched lower and lower, creeping slowly to the spot between his legs.

His mind swam and reeled and plunged. His heart pounded hard against his chest. Could she hear it? Could she feel the panic rising up his throat like a scream? It filled his head.

Louder.

Louder.

Louder.

It was hard to hear anything, do anything. His throat closed around the words he desperately wished to say. Hands shaking, heart racing. He could not move. She kissed his neck and his chest tightened. She bit his ear and his legs turned to sand. Somehow he was standing and going through the motions, but in his mind, he was drowning.

Deeper.

Deeper.

Deeper.

Cullen’s mind clouded over, his head spun, his stomach twisted against his guts. When Rania finally fumbled his belt undone, something snapped. The sound of his belt hitting the floor brought Cullen to the surface where he found his voice again.

“Sto-Stop.”

She stopped.

He took a deep breath.

The world was blurry when he opened his eyes. It spun around. It wouldn’t focus. Somewhere off in the distance… Or maybe there was someone behind the door, mumbled something. Suddenly, he felt his desk beneath him. When had he sat down? Should he be worried about the candles? The map? Like he predicted, his headache spread to the back of his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose as hard as he could. Again, someone mumbled.

“What?” he said. Finally, the world righted itself. It came into focus, and all he saw was her.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

 

—

It was surprising how comforting the crispness of the air felt against his skin. They had walked the battlements for hours, days, years. Time had been lost to him. He could breath freely again, taking in the smell of the mountain air — clean and sharp. His lungs were full, his stomach had settled. The pounding of his heart calmed. He took off his gloves and felt the tough texture of the stone against his fingertips. The cloth of his socks against his toes. The way the wind combed through his curly hair. He opened his eyes.

Rania stood beside him, leaning against her elbows on the wall of the battlements. She stared out into the valley blanketed in miles of snow. Black trees poked out here and there like crooked toothpicks. The night was quiet, and for that, Cullen was grateful.

He slid his gloves to her, seeing as her hands shivered from the wind. He knew how much she hated the cold. “For your hands.”

“All these years, I thought they were for your feet.” The gloves were too big, but she slipped them on anyway. When she smiled, two dimples deepened into her round cheeks.

He had to tell her; she had that right.

Cullen rubbed the back of his head, his hair sticking up between his fingers. “I want to explain what happened.”

She looked at him, warm brown eyes narrowing. She was listening. “Go on.”

He opened his mouth but could not find anything to say. The words would not come, not in a way that made sense, and not in a way that would end with Rania staying with him. How do you explain to a person you love that you would never want to have sex with them? Growing up, he always thought something was wrong with him. The boys in his village would brag about who they fucked; some would look at a girl or a boy and see someone so appealing they had to flirt and kiss until they bedded them. But Cullen never saw a girl in a way that made him want to take her to bed. Sure, there were pretty girls in his life. The woman standing in front of him now was one of them, but he couldn’t… He could never give her that.

“Cullen, you know you can tell me anything.”

And that was the worst thing to say because Cullen knew it. Of course he did. She was safe, and yet… “Being celibate has never been a problem for me,” he said, finally. “I’ve never had the urge to… I’ve never felt I needed to. The templars, they were all I wanted. I knew the other men and women fraternized with the mages and with each other, but…” He shook his head and looked to the stars for guidance.

_Maker, help me. Please._

“What are you afraid of?” she asked softly. “I want to know. I want to understand.”

“I’m not afraid. I mean, I am. But the fear isn’t why I’ve never had the urge.”

“What is the fear then?”

Cullen thought for a moment. Finally, he said, “The intimacy. The loss of control. _Giving_ that control to someone else, even when you trust and love that person immensely. But simply put, I’ve never wanted to do it, and that feeling has never changed.”

Rania nodded. “Then we won’t do it.”

“What?” He had prepared himself for rejection, but instead he was given a warm acceptance. The feeling tugged at his heart and spread across his entire body like the first cup of hot ale at the beginning of winter. “I cannot, in good conscience, ask you to do that.”

“Cullen, I love you. _You_ ,” she emphasized, pointed a chubby finger at him. “I love the way you hum to yourself in the morning, and the way you laugh through your nose. I love how kind and gentle you are. I love your devotion to this Inquisition, to your soldiers, to me. I love you, not the idea of having sex with you.”

What in the world had he done to deserve Rania Trevelyan? His past was muddled with bad choices and dark feelings and never had he thought of a future that swelled with love and happiness. Here stood a mage who hated templars and yet she was willing to become celibate all because she loved him. _Him_ , of all people. For the first time in his life, Cullen Rutherford did not feel wrong or broken.

Rania reached out for him, giving him the choice to be touched. He closed the gap, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and tucking his face into her neck. She smelled like baked bread and herbs, and in her arms he felt whole.


End file.
